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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979392">It’s Just Hair</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spamwrice/pseuds/spamwrice'>spamwrice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but both switched personalities at one point in this fic, feral yachi is here, lots of staring, quarantine w hinayachi, shoyo can also cut hair, shoyo knows how to cook (i think), shy hinata is also here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:42:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spamwrice/pseuds/spamwrice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"And you’re always changing, Shoyo-kun. And I’m always choosing to love you. You’re so silly. I’m a fool, am I? A fool who made the right choice to love you, but still a fool."</p><p>This is what Hitoka thinks when Shoyo told her about his sentimentalities for her hair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Yachi Hitoka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It’s Just Hair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>            Long blond locks cascaded down Hitoka’s back, swaying with every movement she makes. Shoyo watches in awe as she walks by, the television abandoned from his attention. The movements of the world slowed over the past few months, and every time he catches the light in Hitoka’s hair he felt he could stay that way for little much longer.</p><p>            His own hair had grown out into a fiery blaze. It stuck out on top of his head and its ends playfully tickle the back of his neck. Sometimes when his girlfriend walks by she’d land her hand on his head, and slides it down to his nape, tugging the ends of his strands. “Shoyo, you need to comb it out somehow.” Neither of them are unable to make their own appointments for a haircut because businesses shut down. With the pandemic forcing them to stay indoors, Hitoka and Shoyo grew accustomed to each other.</p><p>            Shoyo would watch the way Hitoka scrunches her eyebrows at something that annoys her, the way she rubs her fingers together while she thought of the next word she’d say in an email, or how she unconsciously hums her current favorite song in the kitchen, hips moving to a ghostly rhythm. He watched the way her golden hair grew longer, reaching mid-waist. Never had he seen her so… <em>endearing</em>. All their days in high school she maintained her medium-length hair, forcing him to keep his image of her as his manager. <em>Growing up does a lot of things to you, doesn’t it? </em></p><p>            “Sho-chaaan,” Hitoka whined. “One of these days I will cut my hair off with one of our knives.” Shoyo burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling up. “Hitoka, why not a pair of scissors instead? Cutting hair with knives is so… medieval.”</p><p>            She narrowed her eyes at him, then raised her eyebrow. “Cutting hair with knives is radical.”</p><p>            Feigning subversion, Shoyo raised his hands. “Yes ma’am, as you say so.” Hitoka leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms, “Good. Now go make us lunch.” Hinata dropped his hands, pouting, “Aw man! I forgot it was my turn to do that.”</p><p>           “Aw, what would you do without me.” Hitoka winked at him. He swore that act alone would be his undoing. Trying to act cool, he just glanced at her, hoping to hide the fact that it made him blush.</p><p>           She leaned back, stretching her legs. Then by a sudden thought she jolted upright, and her chair violently scraped against the tiles. “Oh my god, my calls!”</p><p>           Shoyo knew she needed her phone at all times while she did her work on her laptop. Conference calls were sometimes unexpected and inconsistent. And sometimes she wouldn’t have one in a single day.</p><p>           She scrambled to look for her phone, digging in her pockets. “What the heck! Where is it?” She looked in the drawers, under the bed, under the couch, in Shoyo’s pockets… <em>nothing.</em> Her heart dropped to her stomach, realizing the weight of her predicament. Anger rose to her cheeks, hot and red. Then she heard Hinata’s muffled laughs. She turned to him, pivoting on her heels, eyes narrowing, <em>he was in trouble. </em></p><p>           “Where is it,” she demanded with an edge to her voice. Shoyo pulled his hand away from his mouth, revealing a cheeky grin. He couldn’t allow himself to feel intimidated by her–not when she stood a mere 5'3 and had a pretty face. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be proven wrong, though. Hitoka fixated her gaze on his, steeled with an oncoming outburst. She took one step, and Shoyo felt a chill down his spine, <em>Oh, I guess I was wrong to underestimate. </em>Hitoka noticed the change in his demeanor, like he pressed the wrong button and was waiting for his deserved punishment. Despite her annoyance and anger, she smirked at him, closing the distance between her and her paralyzed boyfriend.</p><p>            “So,” she puts her hand on her hips, accusingly jutting her chin up. “Where is it?” She sees his throat bob up and down with great difficulty. But after a moment he seemed to get a hold of himself and said, “Well, as far as I am concerned, it’s not on me, Hitoka.”</p><p>             She plays with the strings of his hoodie, twirling it around her finger while she tilts her head to the side, a playful smile on her lips. She tiptoes, bringing her mouth to his ear, “Is that so? Then what are you hiding behind your back? In your right hand?”</p><p>             He smelled like laundry soap, mixed with his own scent. The warmth of his body radiated onto her. If she wasn’t so determined in disarming him, she would have wavered herself.</p><p>            The ends of Hinata’s hair were beginning to scratch his neck. Her words were too honeyed that he nearly forgot she was threatening him just seconds ago. He shrugs and Hitoka rocks back and forth on her heels. They stared at each other for a few more seconds before she lunged on her heels. She was quick, but Shoyo had trained as a professional volleyball player for a long time now. Instinctual reactions to the fastest serves from world-class players made him move quicker than she did. Hitoka crashed into his chest and he took a step back to catch her fall with an arm wrapped around her shoulders.</p><p>            She groaned and delivered an uppercut to his torso. <em>God, how can she be so violent? </em>She was strong, but the act was more surprising than hurtful. He doubled over, but in his mind he was laughing his ass off.</p><p>
  <em>            Hitoka, you sure are full of surprises aren’t you? I guess I’m going to let things unfold for both of us.</em>
</p><p>Breathing hard, he was kneeling beneath her withering look, his right arm still behind his back. With a triumphant grin, she bends over, her breath intermingled with his, “What you got there behind you, Shoyo-kun?”</p><p>            Hinata blows out a puff of air, and her short hairs fly out of her face.</p><p>            “Okay, here.” He reveals her phone in his hand, “I promise you, nobody called.” Hitoka was reaching her hand out but Shoyo pulled away his own. <em>Again,</em> he dared her. Biting her lip, she bared her teeth like the devil. And time slows, more sluggish than before. Shoyo’s consciousness became lethargic as he stared at her pink lips, heated cheeks, brown eyes, long lashes…</p><p>            Hitoka knocked her phone out of his hands, and pushed him to the floor. With a yelp, Shoyo found himself lying on his back, with a girl sitting on his chest, eager to pin him down. Hands on either side of his head, Hitoka’s hair fell around her face. Both were out of breath, and they didn’t even have sex yet.</p><p>            Shoyo was the first to laugh. Hitoka’s smug look diminished and she smiled radiantly, “I got you down, I won.”</p><p>            “Hitoka, you’re something else.” Hinata raised his fingers, and ran them through her long strands, stopping at the ends. He twirled a lock of hair, wrapping it around his finger.</p><p>             Hitoka observes him like a naturalist out on the field. Mouth slightly parted, his eyes were steady on the lock of hair encircled around his finger. All the while his hand rests on her thigh, his thumb moving left and right. Every time he breathed she would feel the way his chest moved beneath her. She shifted, thinking that her weight was constricting him.</p><p>             And Shoyo’s focus snaps. He blinked, shaking his head. “Oh… Sorry about that.” He moves to sit up and she allows him. Shoyo supports himself with both hands behind him. Hitoka drapes her arms over his shoulders, holding him close.</p><p>             They stared at each other. Energy from their wrestle was declining, slowing their heart rate. Shoyo leans in, deliberate and determined to kiss her. Hitoka parts her lips and invites him.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>             Soft lips upon a vanilla-mint flavor, time stops.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>             It wasn’t like they haven’t kissed before. But the premise of time spent indoors, with repetition and familiarity, breeds an attitude for prudency. Their hearts beat almost imperceptibly in their chest. It wasn’t rushed nor electrified. Shoyo reveled in Hitoka’s vanilla mint flavored lips. He eased in the weight of her body on his. He indulged in her scent.</p><p>             Disengaging his hands from behind him, he takes them to Hitoka’s waist, and their kiss deepens. Hitoka brings her hands to his neck, fingers brushing his jaw. On the floor of Shoyo’s apartment they’re entangled in each other. The world beyond them still moved. But their own world, engulfed by their warmth, stopped on its axis. It wasn’t on fire. It was shrouded in mist, with the sun’s soft hues peeking through.</p><p>             It was like growing up–––they can’t feel time. They feel the brushing of skin, the parting of lips, the fingers in each other’s hair, the wandering hands. They feel each other’s proximity, embedding it in their being with tenderness.</p><p> </p><p>             Hitoka slowly pulls away from Shoyo, wanting to stay a little longer. Pressing her forehead against his, “Make us lunch, won’t you, Shoyo?” she murmurs. “Then you can cut my hair after.” Shoyo lightly blows away her hair from her face, revealing Hitoka’s shy demeanor, far from her feral persona minutes ago. “Sure thing… you can fix up my little salon by the window while I cook,” he winks. With a fond smile, Hitoka takes his face in her hands and pecks his nose, “Thanks, babe.” She hops off and walks away, leaving Shoyo blushing.</p><p>             “Damn, you win again,” he muttered to himself, and heaved himself off the floor.</p><p> </p><p>•-•-•</p><p> </p><p>            Hitoka inspects Shoyo’s bathroom cabinet. It was clean and organized, and satisfying her perfectionist tendencies. She wasn’t surprised. The man learned to look after himself and now she didn’t need to do that for him. Smiling to herself, she grabbed his scissors, comb, spray bottle, and few more for Shoyo’s salon<em>. </em>She snickered, “<em>Shoyo’s salon...</em>” She placed all of it on the sill of the large windows in his living room.</p><p>            This was her favorite spot in his apartment. And his unit was pretty high up in the building so it felt nice to sit on the windowsill and stare out into the city. In the morning, she’d stand by with her coffee in hand, watching the orange clouds loll across the sky.</p><p>            Not long after, Shoyo would open his bedroom door, rubbing his eyes, yawning. “Good morning, babe,” he’d mumble and walk to the kitchen to pour himself coffee. After that he’d be standing with her, watching the clouds until the sun starts to appear, illuminating their irises. In the golden light, Shoyo’s eyes would turn into a soothing amber. Hitoka finds herself frozen in time when she gets caught in his gaze. She was like a dragonfly in amber.</p><p> </p><p>            In the afternoon, Hitoka would go to the window again. Then she’d do it again in the evening. Sometimes Shoyo finds her there in the middle of the night, her laptop propped on the windowsill, standing while working. He decided to buy her an armchair online.</p><p>            Hitoka was taking a shower when it came in, and when she got out she found Shoyo sitting on it with his legs crossed, sipping on hot chocolate while he faced the window. She tiptoed behind him and slid her hands down his shoulders, “Ohh, what is this, Shoyo-kun?” He turns around, finding his girlfriend with her hair wet and body wrapped in a towel.</p><p>            Clearing his throat, he fails to utter an immediate answer. He set his mug on the windowsill. “I got this for you, Hitoka.” Her eyes widen, and then narrowed, and they widen again. Shoyo smiled, “I know how much you like it here. You come over to my window at least five times a day and I don’t want you standing here for the whole time. I’d rather have you sit and relax somehow, even while you do your work.”</p><p>            Hitoka opened her mouth, but he interrupts, “I also know you would look up the price. But you do know I will keep buying you stuff without your asking.” Hitoka laughed, her eyes crinkling up, “Okay, you’re right. It would be nice to sit here and just relax.” With one hand securing the towel around her body, Hitoka tiptoes to peck Shoyo’s lips. “Hmm, you taste like toothpaste,” Shoyo comments. She rolls her eyes as she disappears into his bedroom. Not a moment after her head pops out, “Well, Shoyo-kun, aren’t you coming with me?” He bites his bottom lip, “Why don’t we get creative and do it here?” he motions his head towards the armchair. Hitoka feigned a disgusted look, “Good bye,” and shut the door.</p><p> </p><p>•-•-•</p><p> </p><p>            “Hitoka-san!” Shoyo called from the kitchen. “Check this out, I think I did pretty well with this one.” Hitoka finds him standing by the stove, waving at her with a spoon. “Here,” he dips the spoon in a pot of ramen soup, filling it. He lightly blows on it and brings it to her lips.</p><p>            Hitoka pursed her lips, “Hmm, nearly there… Add a little water, Shoyo-kun.” And he opens a drawer where the measuring cups were stored.</p><p>            “A half-cup enough?”</p><p>            “Yeah, I think that would be good.”</p><p>            Shoyo fills the cup with water and poured it in the pot. While he stirs it up, Hitoka noticed his outfit. “You’re wearing the apron I gave you.”</p><p>            “Yep! I admit I got a little confused when I opened it. You have a way of telling people what to do with their lives through your gifts.”</p><p>            “No I don’t,” she laughs. “I just thought the apron would look good on you.”</p><p>            Shoyo smirked, “You were walking around the store and found an apron for me like it was an outfit.”</p><p>            “Yes,” Hitoka played along. “I imagined you would look good in it while shirtless.”</p><p>            With a hand on his chest, Shoyo gasped, “Babe, what a scandalous thought! Absolutely impure!”</p><p>            Hitoka brought her hands to her mouth, stifling her laughs. Shoyo threw his head back with a boisterous holler. Laughter permeated the apartment with an energy of delight.</p><p>            “Okay, <em>now </em>I think this is enough,” Shoyo gave Hitoka a spoonful of soup.</p><p>            “Perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>•-•-•</p><p> </p><p>            Facing the windows, Hitoka sat on the chair that Shoyo brought from the kitchen. He walks in with a plastic bag in hand, “I cut a hole the size of your head at the bottom.”</p><p>            Hitoka smiles, “Good thinking,” and the plastic bag goes over her head. “Shoyo-kun, how about my arms? There aren’t any holes for them.”</p><p>            Raising his eyebrow, “You don’t need them.” Hitoka snorts, “Babe, I need to move my arms every now and then, considering how long this will take.”</p><p>            “And that shows you don’t trust my hair cutting abilities.”</p><p>            “I would pay you less than a thousand yen.”</p><p>            “Or you wouldn’t even go to me at all!”</p><p>            Shoyo and Hitoka narrowed their eyes at each other, until the latter blinked. “Ha! I win,” said Shoyo with unbridled energy. Nonetheless, he takes the scissors from the windowsill and cut a hole in each side of the plastic bag, trying not to cut Hitoka’s arms. He steps back from her, inspecting his work. “This is a good look on you, babe.”</p><p>            He runs to the bedroom and comes out with a tall mirror, placing it in front of her. Hitoka palms her face and shakes her head, “Horrid taste, Shoyo-kun.”</p><p>            “Hey, give me some credit here. The plastic bag has a built-in scent to it.”</p><p>            Scrunching her eyebrows, Hitoka tilted her chin down and smelled her plastic bag outfit, “It smells expensive.”</p><p>            “<em>You </em>are expensive,” Shoyo winks at her.</p><p>            Just as she was beginning to blush, Shoyo sprays water at her flushed cheeks, urging a yelp from Hitoka. “You look like you’re hot, babe. Cool down, geez.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes.</p><p>“I mean, you already are,” Shoyo adds, wiping her face with a towel.</p><p>            “Well, thanks. Now get to cutting,” Shoyo senses a smile from her as he comes around to her backside. He looks at himself in the mirror, then Hitoka, “How much should I cut?”</p><p>            Smirking, Hitoka replied, “Give me a buzzcut.”</p><p>            “Say no more,” Shoyo takes a chunk of her hair, and brings his scissors near her scalp.</p><p>            “Shoyo-kun!”</p><p>            He bursts out laughing like a hyena with his mouth wide open. “Okay, seriously though, have you thought about it?” His playful demeanor gone, he fervently looks at her through the mirror, eyes softening upon Hitoka’s unglorified image–––messy hair and plastic bag.</p><p>            “You know, I want it short like it was in high school,” Hitoka said with a gentle smile, reminiscing her younger self–<em>the one who was learning to be brave</em>.</p><p>            Miming the same look on her face, Shoyo knew what that look meant. It was the one that Hitoka would have on while talking about something she loved and held dear, like her mother, him, or the family of birds that used to flock to her window when she was eight. And after a moment, softly, he asked, “You’re really trusting me on that? All this hair–” He took all of her hair in his palm, soft and luminous.</p><p>            “Yes, I do,” she said with earnestness. “The same way I would have trusted you that time you pulled me to the train station.”</p><p>            Shoyo chuckled, “I wouldn’t say <em>pulled</em>, more like <em>dragged</em>… And what do you mean <em>would have</em>?”</p><p>            “If you remember, I was <em>not </em>having fun. My younger self didn’t trust you in that moment.”</p><p>            “But <em>you,</em>” Shoyo points at her, “Trust that younger-me into dragging younger-you to the train station.”</p><p>            Hitoka smiled brightly at him, scrunching her nose, her eyes nearly closed, “Bingo.”</p><p>            With a sigh, Shoyo affectionately shakes his head. “Okay, here it goes.” As if on cue, Hitoka grabs the spray bottle and hands it to him over her shoulder. “Oh wait,” Shoyo remarks. He goes to the kitchen and wears his apron.</p><p>             “I know aprons are good for while you’re cooking, but I don’t think it’s the same while cutting hair.” Hitoka told him when she saw him come back.</p><p>             “You didn’t know? These have pockets!”</p><p>             She whirls around, “Are you serious? I didn’t even notice.”</p><p>             “Well, that’s because you were too caught up in thinking about me being shirtless while wearing it.”</p><p>             “I mean, you <em>could </em>take your shirt off right now,” Hitoka’s lips curled into a suggestive smirk.</p><p>             “Shush, I’m supposed to cut hair, remember.” He takes the spray bottle from her and Hitoka turns to the mirror, and Shoyo starts spraying at her hair. The light from the window fell on them, like an ambiance of golden orange.</p><p>             Once Shoyo had sprayed half the length of Hitoka’s hair, he stopped. “Don’t you think we should have your hair washed first?”</p><p>            “Too late for that, Shoyo-kun.”</p><p>            “But that’s what they do in salons.”</p><p>            Hitoka smiles while Shoyo runs a wet comb through her hair. And he does it slowly and gently, careful not to hurt her scalp. With each stroke, he admires how her hair looks like bands of light. He felt a little sad that he was going to cut it all off.</p><p>            Shoyo was in a trance, mindlessly combing. He was going to miss how it would slap him in the face when Hitoka suddenly turns her head away from him–––<em>Look, I don’t need to use just my hands to slap people!</em> Or how the strands would tickle his face when he buries his nose in her neck. Or how some of it would rise when she takes off her sweater, electrifying the air around her. Sometimes his brain would be urged to a static hum just by looking at her.</p><p>           “Babe, are you okay?” Hitoka asks. She’d been observing him through the mirror. At one point she saw his eyes go still, as if they were marbleized. Then his motions became slower, lik he was taking his time while his own world stood still on its axis.</p><p>           When Shoyo’s in a trance, his face relaxes, though his expression would hold an intensified focus. It was like he was determined to hold on to whatever that occupied his mind. Even if he got lost in thought, he always had a controlled way of pulling himself out of it. He lets himself get lost in the flowing river of his psyche. And because he’s learned himself well enough, he knows every inundated rock and branch that he can hold on to.</p><p>           But that’s not always true, because Shoyo’s not perfect. Hitoka would be there to pull him out if she needed to.</p><p>           “Oh? Yeah, I’m okay.” Shoyo’s bright smile emerges.</p><p>           “Are you sure? You seemed… nostalgic. Or sad… Or both.”</p><p>           Shoyo nods, “It was just for a moment, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>           “You do know I would overthink what you just said, right?”</p><p>           “If I say it, you might feel bad.”</p><p>           Pursing her lips, Hitoka narrowed her eyes at him. “Just tell me.”</p><p>           “I felt a little sad that I would have to cut your hair.”</p><p>           “Ah, so that’s what that tone meant…” she muttered.</p><p>           “Huh?”</p><p>           “You had a lilt in your voice when you asked about me trusting you with my hair. It was as if it was going to hurt you more than me.”</p><p>           Shoyo’s eyes crinkled at the corners, chuckling, “Yeah, you’re right.”</p><p>           “It’s just hair, Shoyo-kun…” Not knowing the cause of sentimentality for hair, Hitoka asked him about it.</p><p>            “I don’t know… I guess this whole time we’ve been locked up in here I got really used to your having long hair. I don’t know. I'd just feel different every time I would look at you.”</p><p>            It seemed like a silly thought to her, but then she realized how long they’ve been cooped up in here together. <em>Almost a year.</em> It doesn’t feel that way–––it feels like they’ve been here forever. <em>And you’re always changing, Shoyo-kun. And I’m always choosing to love you. You’re so silly. I’m a fool, am I? A fool who made the right choice to love you, but still a fool.</em></p><p>            Hitoka smiles, then Shoyo speaks up again. “Though I can always get used to your new hairstyle. Maybe tomorrow you’ll give yourself that buzzcut, and I will find other ways to mess with it. I’d be rattled for sure, though nonetheless, it’s still you.” If Hitoka could smile even bigger, she would. And her smile would stretch for miles and miles.</p><p>            So, she just bites her lip, bottling up her own giddiness within her body, letting the feeling sink in for a little while.</p><p>            Shoyo huffs out a breath, making her hair fly away from her face yet again. He wiggles his eyebrows, “Okay, babe. You ready?”</p><p>            He stands before her, scissors in one hand, spray bottle in another, and an apron hugging the muscular body he’s worked so hard for. His eyes fill with patience, and deep longing. Patience for the woman Hitoka is becoming, and longing for the girl she used to be–––appreciation for the woman that she is now. <em>How many times can I tell you this? You are so brilliant. I hope to show you that every day of our lives. </em></p><p>           And Hitoka turns to him, her wide, brown eyes illuminated by the sunlight. Once again, their own world halts on its axis.</p><p>           Shoyo was like a dragonfly in amber.</p><p>           “I’m ready.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i can't believe i was actually able to write fluff oh wow (this girl does not know how to write a kissing scene, but she did try!!)</p><p>im not used to writing actual scenes as they happen, but i think i did a decent job! i always end up circling back to my forte, which are metaphors/similes, as you can see...</p><p>BUT ANYWAYS</p><p>i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :) </p><p>it's nice to give yourself the warm and fuzzies every now and then, don't you think?</p><p>i always appreciate comments and kudos... and you can also find me on twitter @spamwrice, so please don't be shy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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